Very Different People
by hazeleyes571
Summary: What were Jean and Lucien thinking in the third season episode 'Room without a view' when Jean was preparing to leave her home and the man she loved?


Disclaimer: Doctor Blake's Mysteries is a copyright product not owned by me or mine. Characters used without permission, but no infringement is intended and no profit made. Script is used from Doctor Blake Mysteries, season three, episode 7, 'Room without a View', written by Chelsea Cassio.

Author: Hazeleyes57

Rating: U or T, mild swearing.

A/N: This is based on the episode 'Room without a view' season 3, episode 7, Doctor Blake Mysteries. The original script used was written by Chelsea Cassio, but is here used without her permission.

Pairing: Lucien and Jean.

This will be a two chapter short fic.

Very different people Chapter 1.

Jean Beazely didn't hesitate as she entered the surgery office carrying a fresh, hot cup of tea for Doctor Lucian Blake. She knew that he expected a cup at this time of the day and she prided herself on anticipating his needs to the best of her ability.

Used to seeing him smartly dressed to see his patients, to her mild surprise her employer was in his shirtsleeves. It was quite a different look from the customary three piece suit.

She rather liked it. It made him look more approachable.

Jean made her pace brisk and efficient as she crossed to the desk. Appearing so was harder than it used to be, because she often wanted to linger in the doorway and watch Lucien without his knowledge for a brief moment or two. Such was the price of realising that she had fallen in love with him. She knew falling for one's employer was such a cliche, but she wasn't the type of woman to moon over a man, and she wasn't going to start now.

So odd to think, just a few years ago, that she used to find him so different, so difficult, especially when compared to working for his father, the first Doctor Blake, that she wasn't sure that she could continue to work for him.

Now she knew that she was going to have to be strong enough to wrench herself away from the place that she had called home for many years.

Her home, and this amazing, exasperating man.

The situation had divided her loyalties, but her son, his wife and the new baby had to come first. Her daughter-in-law was best described as fragile and wasn't coping too well with the baby on her own. She was in the position of being able to help them with her time, so that was what she should do. Two years ago it would have been easy to walk away, now it was not.

Jean placed the cup and saucer on the desk gently, and without fanfare.

"Lucien, you just missed Mattie. That girl, Jessie, remembers being in town to visit her father."

Lucien Blake looked up at the welcome sight of his housekeeper. Although he was distracted by the new information about the amnesiac patient at the hospital, and mildly annoyed that he couldn't find the text book he required, he still took a moment to appreciate Jean's presence. He smiled, looking pleased.

"Thank you. She's from out of town, that's something."

That mentally dealt with, Blake stood up and crossed to the bookshelf, scanning the titles. He was not ignoring Jean, but like many men, and a good few women, who are focused and successful, he had moved on to the next thing on his 'to do' list.

 _Where was that damned book?_

Jean watched the figure before her as he bent to search the lower shelves. Without his suit jacket, it was easier to see the movement of his muscles beneath the taut shirt. It conjured up thoughts of what it might feel like to touch his bare skin, to feel those muscles move under her hands. _And why_. Her mouth dried up and she needed to swallow before she could speak.

 _Brisk and efficient, come on, Jean. Buck your ideas up, girl!_

"...and Mrs Pride just rang, she wants to make an appointment in two weeks for a follow-up. What do you want me to do?"

Blake's fingers stilled on a book spine, and his heart sank. He really didn't want Jean to go, but he had no claim on her, he didn't have the right to stop her leaving, if that was what her decision was going to be.

His fingers clumsily resumed the hunt, but he knew that he would have to backtrack and search again, because he wasn't paying proper attention.

"Well, what would you normally do?"

He had aimed to sound casually offhand, but unfortunately he knew it probably sounded rather dismissive.

 _Bugger._

Jean was torn between efficiency and truth. She didn't want to get into a discussion about her departure, but she didn't know what he was going to be doing the week after next.

"Well, I'm not booking anyone beyond the end of next week because...well…"

The unfinished sentence dangled untidily, poised between this moment and the unknown. Jean's expression held a hint of embarrassment under the surface of determination.

 _I need to go, my son needs me. But please ask me to stay…better yet, tell me._

Blake glanced up and felt awkward. He wondered if he was seeing something in Jean's expression that hinted at conflicted thoughts, or was he so terrified about losing her that he was simply projecting his own desires on to her. Normally a decisive man, he despised his own dithering.

"Of course. Umm...then, yes, please do, do book her in."

Finally he found the book he needed and he straightened up to look at Jean properly. He hoped he didn't look as uncertain as he felt.

Jean looked decisive. Firm. Her usual composed self. Her eyes flicked over him in that way that occasionally made him feel like he was being checked for stray lint on his suit.

"Huh. I'll let her know."

"Thank you."

She spun on her sensible heel and Blake watched her as she moved briskly to the door. He was rattled by the speed with which events were taking place and he couldn't seem to get the time to marshall his thoughts and maneuver this wonderful woman into remaining here. She was withdrawing from him and he couldn't find the right words to prevent it.

Jean stopped unexpectedly in the doorway and looked back.

"Oh, any news on Henry King?"

If she had registered that he had already been watching her, she didn't show it.

Blake brightened. Anything to keep Jean in his company.

"Almost too much in fact. No logic to any of it."

Jean was both intrigued and glad she had thought up a question that enabled her to remain in the room. She tacitly moved back into the office. Her expressive face asked the obvious question and Blake was happy to reply as if he'd heard the words.

"What I'd like to know is what happened to him ten years ago."

Jean frowned in thought. Part of her was already casting her mind back ten years for anything that might be significant.

"Why ten years ago?"

"I'm told that's when he started drinking heavily. Perhaps there's something he wanted to forget…"

 _Given his own relationship with the bottle, it was a feasible hypothesis._

Blake absently swapped the black book he held into his other hand, deep in thought about Henry King's motives.

He took his seat at the desk and looked up at Jean.

"...Catherine Lewis seems to think his declining business was the problem."

Jean stood straighter, not wanting to waste the opportunity to prod Lucien in another direction.

"Oh, well, uncertainty in your job is a real worry for people."

Blake looked completely blindsided, but she didn't give him chance to respond before she marched back across the office to the doorway. He looked stunned at her words even as his eyes followed her retreating body.

"Jean!"

She halted. And waited.

Blake was clearly struggling to say the right thing, the thing that would make it all okay again.

"You know that...you know that you'll always have a job here."

He knew that it wasn't what was needed the moment the words had left his mouth and he saw the cool, brief lift of her chin in acknowledgement. He hadn't got through to her, he knew it absolutely as she turned away.

Despairing, Blake leaned on his elbows, and the fingers of one hand covered his mouth as if wishing that the words had never passed his lips.

 _Frere Jacques_ emerged from the upright piano in the dining room under Lucien Blake's unhurried prompting. Mattie sipped her sherry, contentedly watching him play about with the arrangement before he abandoned the nursery rhyme altogether to run through a pleasant medley of notes simply for the fun of it.

It was usually a comfortable way to unwind and relax in the evening, but at that moment Jean came in from the hall. With her customary grace she poured a drink for herself.

Lucien Blake continued playing the upright piano, mentally only half-present in the room. If he had ever consciously wondered why he found the piano calmed him after a long day, he couldn't remember a satisfactory answer. Probably something he vaguely recalled from the all-too brief life with his mother.

At the time he had resented his childhood lessons in piano, but the skill had been held in good stead and he had whiled away both quiet and turbulent times in his past, especially in Singapore.

The clink of the whisky decanter made Mattie turn and glance at Jean with surprise.

She realised from her set expression that Jean was going to speak to Lucien tonight. She and Jean had already discussed the best way to broach the matter, and Mattie knew that her friend would rather discuss this with Lucien privately.

Jean took a mouthful of the amber coloured alcohol. It was not something that she drank much of, and the fiery warmth of it took her by surprise. It was so potent that she had to brace her lips with a finger to stop herself from coughing.

 _So much for a calm discussion._

Mattie quickly stood, sherry in hand, to offer her seat.

"Jean, why don't you take my place? I'm going to bed…" She smiled at them both as she headed for the door, "...goodnight!"

Lucien absently looked up from the piano and smiled his goodnight to her.

Jean nodded too, appreciating the younger woman's discretion.

" 'Night, Mattie."

Jean finished her drink. It went down a little smoother this time. Blake noticed the tumbler and his eyebrows climbed. It wasn't that long ago that she had poured a glass of the good stuff down the kitchen sink in disgust at its taste.

"Whisky?"

Suddenly realising the import of the uncharacteristic behaviour, it was with a sinking heart that Blake turned on the piano stool to face the woman who was so important to him. Despite his misgivings, his tone teased.

"Now that's not your usual."

Unconsciously his chin lifted as he stretched to ease the sudden tension in his throat. He was hoping against hope that he was wrong, but it looked like she had made her mind up.

Jean smiled a little, but he could tell that it was merely a token.

"No, but I thought I might need some extra courage."

She took a step closer to the table to put down the suddenly too-heavy glass. She was closer to Blake now and could tell from the set of his bowed head that he had guessed what she was about to tell him.

Resigned, he looked up at her and sighed.

"You've made your decision, haven't you?"

In that moment, hearing that tone in his voice, it took all of her courage to continue.

"Yes, I have." She wondered if it was possible for the heart to really break. She forced herself to finish. "I'm leaving tomorrow morning."

Blake sighed again. He was greatly disappointed, but made an effort to hide it. He opened his mouth in an attempt to conjure the words need to change her mind, and although his lips moved, nothing issued forth.

A single nod was all he was capable of in that moment.

Jean managed a smile, but it took effort. She knew that she had done the right thing, so why did it feel like such a mistake?

"Well."

Jean had cast her favour at her knight's feet but he had failed to pick it up. There was nothing much left to say. She had to leave the room before she did something stupid.

Like stay.

"Goodnight, Lucien."

He stood, an automatic courtesy, and straightened his waistcoat, as Jean headed for the door.

But he was so stunned that he was unable to articulate a response until she had already left the room. She seemed to be doing that to him a lot lately.

Too little and too late.

"Goodnight, Jean."

Blake dropped back on to the piano stool, looking as lost as he felt. He slowly shook his head in denial.

 _What the hell had just happened?_

He had never thought that she would really leave.

After a restless night plagued with unpleasant dreams and a hellishly busy morning, Blake had thankfully managed to get back to the house just as the ladies were saying their farewells.

"Ah, Jean!"

She turned to look at him and he noted with some relief that she seemed pleased to see him. Belated manners had him greet Mrs Toowey with a vague wave.

"Mrs Toowey."

Jean was just finishing up with her replacement housekeeper. She came highly recommended despite the short notice, but Jean privately wondered if the references were a little too glowing, as if her previous employer was keen to help her move along. Perhaps the older woman was as severe as she looked, in which case Lucien was in for a rough ride.

Right at this moment though, Jean rather felt that he deserved it.

"Well, I'll be staying at the Soldier's Hill Hotel until the day after tomorrow."

She left the kitchen and swept past Blake, giving him a polite nod.

"Lucien."

She kept moving, much to his surprise. He opened his mouth to say something - anything - but nothing came out - again. His recent nightmares made manifest.

By the time he had gathered his wits to follow her, Jean was halfway across the front driveway. She tugged at the collar of her pale blue swing jacket, setting it flat as she set a quick pace.

"Jean!"

She stopped dead at the sound of Blake's voice, but did not turn around. She couldn't let him see the mixture of expectation, fear and hope that she knew would be there for all the world to see until she had herself under better control.

Having stopped her flight, Blake floundered for something else to say.

"I was, ah..um…"

Jean turned to look at him. Her expression was difficult to decipher and Blake was floundering.

 _How do you ask someone to stay without asking?_

 _For God's sake man, say something!_

Inspiration struck and he gestured expansively, hands wide apart, before he clasped them together, pleased in his relief.

"How's the hotel?"

Judging by Jean's raised eyebrows, it wasn't quite the successful verbal gambit that he had hoped.

"It's fine."

Her tone implied otherwise, but as he was clearly making an effort, she threw him a bone.

"I don't like the scones, though."

Blake had had a moment to think, so he managed another stunning foray into the glittering conversational stakes.

"Now, um, you head off, er, the day after tomorrow?"

"Yes."

Jean avoided his gaze, and looked at the ground, worried that he might see too much of what she needed to keep hidden. She still had some pride left.

 _Some, not much._

But the temptation was too great and she looked warily up at his face.

Blake nodded slowly before brightening.

"How about I take you to the bus-stop?"

Jean changed her mind and decided that she had had enough of the slow torture. Time to end it now, before she said something that she could not take back.

"No, no, it's fine, Lucien."

She turned away, the upset that she felt hidden from his gaze.

"Jean."

 _How could he put such appeal in one word?_

She blinked quickly, schooling her face to neutrality, before she turned to face him again. He was clearly struggling too.

"Look, I know I've...I know I've been, um preoccupied of late and well, preoccupied."

It wasn't much of an explanation, or apology for that matter. But it was far too late.

She looked back again and nodded, before smiling briefly.

"Good afternoon, Lucien."

It had the ring of finality and they both knew it.

Jean looked past him and cast a long, searching look over the house that she had called home for so many years. Her expression was resigned but determined.

She walked away and this time he let her go.

As he reentered the house, Blake was just in time to see Mrs Toowey critically running a finger over the hall furniture and frowning as she checked for dust, before then sifting through the mail on the table.

Something about the way both things were done annoyed him greatly. It was the implication that Jean's work was not up to scratch and he felt angry at the perceived slight.

He opened his mouth to remonstrate with her, but closed it again. There was no point picking a fight with the woman when all he really held against her was that she wasn't Jean.

Blake shut himself away in the office to sulk in private. He could do with a drink and he did not care to find out what Mrs Toowey's opinion was on the matter.

TBC.


End file.
